


a diary highlighting dysfunction (adhd)

by evaneddie



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Gen, Panic Attacks, adhd!buck, buck is bapbey, literally all the character are here, meltdowns, sensory overloads
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-13 04:40:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21238328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evaneddie/pseuds/evaneddie
Summary: adhd!buck





	a diary highlighting dysfunction (adhd)

**Author's Note:**

> hope y'all enjoy
> 
> set before anyone on the team knows about buck having adhd. meltdowns are not fun, and what better time to write buck having one after recovering from one myself?

He can't do this anymore. It's too much for him to handle without his brain exploding. Somehow he manages to pick his feet up and hobble towards the bathroom. The pain in his ankle throbs with a burning heat every time he takes a step. It's bruised and swollen, he can see that from the area around the bandage Hen had managed to convince him to let her wrap around the injury, and he knows he needs to be keeping it elevated, but he can't. He needs to go to a more secluded place so the team can't see how not-together he is when they return.

By some miracle, the bathroom is empty, and he cries a strangled sob, still trying to keep the noise down to avoid any prying ears that may be lurking around out in the main area of the station. All he wanted to do was bounce his leg rapidly up and down, but the tears it brought to his eyes in agony convinced him to stop, and try with his other leg. Making this repetitive movement with his left leg has always been something that has helped calm him, and while being soothing it also was a comforting action. Stupidly, it makes him feel safe, and at ease. But, of course his right leg can't move the same way. It doesn't move nearly fast enough for his liking, and it sort of falters every few downward motions. Feeling more than frustrated, he had flicked his hands a few times in front of his eyes to try and get some of the agitation out, but to no avail. 

He tries again with the hand flicking as he moves towards the hidden area in the bathroom, behind a wall belonging to the last stall. It's a slow trek, but he makes it there in decent time. Instead of sitting on one of the two benches supplied, he drops to the floor and tightly pulls his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them to hold them in place. The position definitely is not the most comfortable, especially with his twisted ankle, but he needs the pressure, and the privacy. At least it's not as painful as his go to leg bounce. 

Again, to no surprise, the harsh shaking of his hands hasn't done anything to alleviate his discomfort, and as tears start to stream down his face, he allows his body to slowly rock back and forth. 

He's pretty sure somewhere in the distance he hears the honk of a truck horn, signalling the return of his family, but it isn't as obvious to him as it would be on a normal day. Barely able to form a coherent thought, he feels his body trembling with each cry, his chest heaving quietly as to not raise suspicion. It's been a while since he's felt like this. Or at least, a while since it's been this bad. The last one on this wavelength was around the time he had the crush injury to his leg. But at least he was able to bury himself under mountains of pillows and wrap himself snugly in blankets. There was always some way to feel the physical pressure his mind and body craved, but not today.

Today has been much different. He couldn't have just grabbed his fire-retardant suit and wore it around the station. That would have made him look like an idiot. An idiot wearing a suit when he now wasn't even allowed to use it in action for the next week or so. He can't look like an idiot. Not when he's been back for only a few months. Even if he'd been back for years, he wouldn't let the team see him like this, see him so broken and helpless.

Gosh, they would think of him as a child, more so than they do now. There's no way he could have that. Letting out a painful groan, he buries his crying eyes into his knees, willing the tears to fade away, for his foot to feel better, for all of this to be over.

There's a tender touch to his shoulder just moments later, and he recoils faster than he has done in years. His father is here. How did he find him? They haven't spoken since Buck left home.

"No, please. I'm sorry," Buck shouts, crying harder as he continues to rock to and fro.

"My love?" It's Eddie. This is worse than his father in some ways. The whisper sits weirdly in the pit of Buck's stomach, and he's way too preoccupied to even notice what his best friend had said.

It's worse than his father because he likes Eddie, and doesn't want this to change things.

Then, just as quickly as he appeared, he was gone, just as Buck knew it would happen. Eddie thinks Buck is pathetic, and who can blame him? Buck's own father used to tell him that and so much more on a daily basis. It was worse when Buck would show signs of his neurodivergency, or more specifically, a meltdown much like this one.

All he wanted to do was stim. If he wasn't able to go back to work just yet, he needed to stim. But because of his stupid foot, and dumb brain, he couldn't. Everything just happened all at once and he couldn't control it.

Eddie's voice calls out to the rest of their close-knit family from the entry to the bathroom, and in seconds he's back at Buck's side, sitting on his knees and stretching out his hands to touch Buck's arm.

Yes. He likes that. But it's not hard enough. Why can't he speak? Why can't he tell Eddie he wants to feel it more pressurised?

"Evs, what happened? Tell me what's going on," Eddie quietly pleads with him. 

No words come out of his mouth in return, just more sounds of his heavy breathing and weeping. 

"Buckaroo?" he hears Hen's voice from in front of him, not looking up as he digs his knees further into his eyes while he sways. He sees explosions of colours behind his eyelids and he pulls back slightly, giving his eyes seconds to calm down, and does it again.

"Kiddo, hey, what's up?" Bobby's here too. "Talk to me."

"He's holding himself really tightly, Cap," Eddie speaks, questioning his own words. 

Buck knows why they're so confused. None of them know about what he's dealing with right now. They don't need to know, or at least, he doesn't want them to. Because them knowing will in turn make them more weary, and this would mean they treat him differently. He can't have that. He needs to get up and leave, to go home to his empty apartment and be alone.

"Maddie, it's me," he hears Chimney say from a little bit further away than the rest of them. Without looking, he knows they're all really close by. Eddie still has his splayed hands on the flesh of his arms, and Buck thinks that the only thing keeping him grounded right now.

"It's Buck." A pause. "No he's not bleeding. He hurt his ankle, but it's just a sprain." Another pause from Chimney, who Buck assumes is on the phone to his sister, and then Eddie's voice enters his ears again.

"Buck, baby, try and control your breathing." Eddie called him baby? If things weren't so hectic right now, he'd probably be panicking over that. 

Oh what is happening to him?

"He's rocking back and forth and he's sobbi- wait, what do you mean?" Chimney speaks fast, almost as fast as Buck's brain runs in the daily. "Heavy? Uhh, not with us. The fire suit? Why?" 

Eddie gently squeezes his hands on Buck and it settles his mind for a split moment before the pressure is gone and he's back to square one. 

There's a set of rushing footsteps that leave the room, and he can no longer hear his friend talking to his sister. Judging by the bits of the conversation he was able to catch, said friend may be getting Buck's suit. Yes. He needs that. He also needs a hug. One from Eddie would be his most desired. But it would be even nicer if they all held him tightly.

But they won't. They're never going to want to see him again after this. Sure, they may appear worried now, but it won't last. Once he's physically okay, they will look down at him in disgust and he'll have to leave, again, but for good this time. 

This can't be happening.

Suddenly, Maddie's filtered voice is near him, clearly talking through a phone. Probably Chimney's.

She gives out directions on how to help her younger brother, her voice as calm as calm can be. It's not just a 911 operator thing either, though that would be a contributer. But even when they were youmger, Maddie was always there to help him through moments like these.

"Chim, can you somehow either help him put the top half of the suit on or drape it over his body?"

Eddie's hands are gone from his arms, and he lets out a cry. No. Please come back. He needs to feel the touch. 

There's a weight on his back, and he knows it's his suit. Chimney hadn't attempted to pry his arms from his legs, for which Buck is grateful. He takes a deep shuddering breath as he feels the heaviness on his body. Yes. More.

"Buck, sweetie, it's me. I know you can't talk right now, but you have people here that care about you okay? Let them in." Maddie. The voice of reason. No new news there. 

The tears slow down to almost nothing, but he's still frantically rocking, and taking in shaky breaths as he recovers from crying. 

"Eddie, I think he would like it if you hugged him," Maddie says, knowing her brother more than he likes to admit.

"Are you sure?" Eddie asks, his voice bordering on uncertainty, holding back his own cries by the sounds of it.

"Just let him know what you're doing so it doesn't give him a fright." 

"Evan, baby, I'm gonna sit behind you and hold you, but you can still rock if that makes you comfortable, okay?" 

Buck nods. The first sign of acknowledgement towards any of them.

It doesn't take long for Eddie to slip in behind Buck, winding his arms and legs around him, and holding on securely, just like Maddie had suggested. It feels nice. Eddie's arms are warm and welcoming. He feels... safe.

"Buckaroo, I'm going to hold your hand." Hen. Her hands are cool to the touch, contrasting Eddie's warmth nicely. It's weird having the two different temperatures, but it feels nice.

Then Chimney speaks up quietly. "I'm going to hold your other one."

He loosens his grip from around his legs and allows his friends to take his hands in theirs. To make things more comfortable for himself, Buck moves his fingers so that they are interlocking with Hen's on his left hand, and Chimney's on his right.

Now all he needs is Bobby to do something, and he knows everything will be fine. The crying has ceased finally, and his breathing is gradually getting better, but he still rocks his body, feeling Eddie move with him, not complaining about it once.

"I've got your leg, kid," Bobby mutters, before Buck feels a heavy pressure on his right knee. He smiles wetly as he looks up from where he's had his eyes pushed into. They all have a fading concern on their faces, as the expressions turn more into relief and fondness over time.

Maddie whispers through the speakerphone. "I love you, Buck. We all do. An ADHD meltdown is nothing to be ashamed of, I've always taught you that."

Slowing his movements, he feels Eddie bury his face into the back of neck, and hears Eddie's raspy breath, feeling the hot sensation on the skin as he speaks only for the two of them to hear. "I've got your back, any day."


End file.
